


The Little Masochist

by flitterflutterfly



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Character Study, Dom/sub, High School, M/M, Mild S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterflutterfly/pseuds/flitterflutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no one who knew Fuji Syuusuke better than Tezuka Kunimitsu, so it wasn’t too surprising that Kunimitsu was the first to realize that Fuji wasn’t as much of a sadist as everyone thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Masochist

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Martyna (OoO.Fuwa Ai.OoO).

Kunimitsu was many things: good at tennis, former captain of the Seigaku Middle School team, current captain of his high school tennis team, straight A senior at said high school, silent, stoic, hard working, and the best friend of one Fuji Syuusuke. He was occasionally oblivious, as seen by the number of girls _and_ boys Fuji said had a crush on him that he never noticed. There were two things, though, that Kunimitsu was very good at observing: those being anything related to tennis, and the aforementioned Fuji Syuusuke.

He’d started observing Fuji the moment he met the closed-eyed prodigy. It had first been for Fuji’s tennis. There was nothing that drew Kunimitsu in more than well-played tennis. But almost three years after they'd won Nationals together, Kunimitsu realized he’d begun observing other things about Fuji too.

After all, how else would he know Fuji’s favorite fruit wasn’t Fuji apples, like most of their teammates would have guessed, but was actually prickly pear fruit? He knew that Fuji’s favorite book was _The Little Prince_ and that Fuji was currently working on trying to read it in the original French. He knew that Fuji was also a prodigy at playing the piano but had chosen tennis and had never regretted that decision. He knew Fuji loved cacti over all other plants and that he wanted to own several horses.

They were third years together at their high school and the only two there that had come from Seigaku. Kunimitsu had admitted long ago that Fuji was his best friend, but he’d realized recently that Fuji was more than that to him.

Once Kunimitsu came to a decision, about anything, he stuck by it. He’d figured out he _wanted_ Fuji, wanted him in the same way those star-struck fangirls that followed the prodigy around did, but no one knew Fuji like Kunimitsu did. All he had to do was figure out what exactly Fuji wanted.

For the past six years, Kunimitsu had observed Fuji without realizing it. Once he started doing it consciously, he learned far more than he’d ever thought he would.

He saw how Fuji always opened his eyes in their shared literature class, because he loved books of all forms. He saw how Fuji made sure to eat his vegetables first, and then his rice. He saw how Fuji always ordered a new flavor of milkshake every time they went out to eat as a team, reminding Kunimitsu of his old propensity to try Inui’s new concoctions.

What was even more interesting was how Fuji acted around him. He saw how Fuji always walked between Kunimitsu and crowds, as if to protect him. He saw how Fuji always knew when Kunimitsu was thirsty and would offer a water bottle before Kunimitsu would even think to get up. He saw how Fuji lingered just a little too close, smiled just a little too wide, whenever Kunimitsu acknowledged him. He saw how Fuji spent just a little more time trying to press Kunimitsu's buttons until he gave into the urge to force Fuji to run laps around the courts.

 _Oh_ , Kunimitsu thought as he sent Fuji on another set of laps. He watched Fuji run, watched the way the prodigy’s shoulders relaxed as soon as he was ordered off.

Fuji Syuusuke wasn’t a sadist, Kunimitsu realized then. He was the exact opposite. And because Kunimitsu hadn’t known, because no one knew, Fuji got his needs fulfilled by pushing and pushing until he was punished for it.

Kunimitsu had to close his eyes and push the topic into the back of his mind, because he couldn’t be thinking about that at practice. He had to concentrate on tennis, not on how much it aroused him—the sudden image of Fuji begging him to be punished.

After practice finished, after they’d all taken showers in the locker room and changed back into their normal clothes, Kunimitsu twitched his fingers in Fuji’s direction. Fuji came to his side immediately and Kunimitsu had to swallow back the sudden urge to praise Fuji, to praise him for his constant companionship and his willing submission and all the things he'd done for Kunimitsu before he’d been paying attention enough to notice.

“You’re sleeping over at my house tonight,” Kunimitsu ordered, like usual. And wasn’t that strange, that it had become usual for him to order Fuji around even off the court? And wasn’t it even stranger that Fuji didn’t even pause, just pulled out his phone to call his parents and tell him he’d be sleeping at the Tezuka residence?

They’d slept over at each other’s houses before, usually on nights before big tests when they’d studied together or sometimes before big tournaments when Kunimitsu had wanted to make sure Fuji would get the right amount of sleep. Tomorrow was neither, but Fuji hadn’t questioned him, had trusted that Kunimitsu had a reason.

It was heady, that amount of trust. Kunimitsu focused on settling himself down as they walked to his house, because he couldn’t jump Fuji yet, didn’t even know for sure that Fuji was sexually attracted to him. He couldn’t assume, because he didn’t know if Fuji would go for it only because Kunimitsu wanted him to. He needed a straight answer, needed some verbal confirmation of what he was seeing now between them, and then maybe he’d be able to give Fuji was he so desperately needed in a better way than he’d been unknowingly doing the past six years.

They reached Kunimitsu’s home. His parents were both gone for the week. They trusted him to take care of himself and often went off for weeks at a time to various places around the world. This time, they’d even taken Kunimitsu’s grandfather with him, so the house was completely empty.

Kunimitsu led Fuji to the kitchen instead of his bedroom. He was hungry and he knew Fuji would be too, so he wasted no time in making a simple meal for the both of them. Fuji perched on the table, watching him.

After he’d set the rice to boil, Kunimitsu looked over at his best friend. Fuji was watching him with his eyes open. Kunimitsu raised an eyebrow.

“You want to tell me something,” Fuji stated. “Or ask me something.”

Kunimitsu nodded, because of course Fuji had realized that. Fuji watched him almost as much, or perhaps more, than Kunimitsu now watched Fuji.

“Both,” Kunimitsu said eventually. “Eat first.”

Fuji accepted that easily, closing his eyes again. Kunimitsu made a plate for Fuji, placing a generous helping of wasabi on the side, and then one for himself. They ate in silence, as most of the things they did together. They’d never much had need for words between them.

As soon as Kunimitsu finished his last bite, Fuji was there to take his plate and put it in the sink. Kunimitsu always did dishes on the weekend when his parents were gone, which Fuji knew by know.

Fuji turned back to Kunimitsu, obviously curious. Kunimitsu considered taking the conversation to his bedroom, except he didn’t want Fuji to feel trapped if he was reading this wrong. He stayed seated, letting Fuji have the height advantage for now.

“I don’t believe you’re sadistic,” Kunimitsu said. Fuji opened his eyes just a crack.

“Mah, I think everyone we’ve played would disagree with that, Buchou.”

“They don’t know you like I do.” Kunimitsu met Fuji’s cerulean gaze. “I think you’re masochistic, Syuusuke. I think you push at me because you _want_ to be punished.”

Fuji’s eyes were fully open now and Kunimitsu knew the shorter male enough to see the surprise in them. Fuji smiled a second later and Kunimitsu saw it as him trying to repair his mask. “I just want your attention, Kunimitsu. You know I’m selfish.”

“Yes,” Kunimitsu agreed. He stood and in one fluid movement trapped Fuji against the countertop. “You have my attention, Syuusuke. You’ve had it for a long time. My question is, what kind of attention are you looking for?”

Fuji looked up at him. “What kind are you offering?”

Kunimitsu kissed him. He wrapped an arm around Fuji’s back, pressing one hand between Fuji’s shoulder blades, and kissed him like it might be the last time he’d ever be allowed to. Fuji kissed back, at first slowly and then with more vigor. By the time Kunimitsu pulled away, they were both panting a bit.

Kunimitsu rested his forehead on Fuji’s for a moment, before he pulled back completely. “If you want this, Syuusuke, then you must know me. If I focus all my attention on you, it won’t be like it was before. I won’t let it be.” He pursed his lips for a moment, wondering what else he could say to get his point across. “If you’re mine, you’ll be _mine_.”

Fuji was slowly recovering. “I’m already yours. You know that.”

Kunimitsu shook his head. “Not like this.” He took a deep breath. “If you think you can handle the full brunt of my attention, follow me upstairs. If not, you can leave and tomorrow we’ll go back to what we were before.” It was all at once a challenge, a threat, and a plea. Kunimitsu didn’t want Fuji to follow him just because he could, he wanted Fuji to follow him because he wanted to, needed to.

“Take as long as you need,” Kunimitsu added. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Inside his room, Kunimitsu shed his school jacket and his tie, leaving him in just a white button-down and brown slacks. His room was neat, as always. Kunimitsu scrutinized it with a careful eye to prevent himself from thinking about the male downstairs.

It only took a minute before he felt Fuji at his doorway. Kunimitsu turned and smiled. He saw Fuji’s body stutter at the expression. Kunimitsu knew he didn’t smile often, but he couldn’t help it, seeing Fuji standing there with those cerulean eyes fixed on Kunimitsu.

Kunimitsu held out a hand. Fuji stepped forward and took it. Kunimitsu pulled him forward and buried his other hand into Fuji’s soft hair. “Tell me,” he murmured.

“I’m yours, Kunimitsu,” Fuji stated again.

“I’m glad.” Kunimitsu tugged sharply at Fuji’s hair and watched, elated and aroused and honestly in love, as Fuji shivered at the sensation. “Syuusuke.”

Fuji tucked his head against Kunimitsu’s chest and Kunimitsu let him. For now, it was more than enough.


End file.
